


one more night

by haleofStilesheart



Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angry Stiles Stilinski, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Exes, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, Werewolf Conferences & Conventions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 23:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11367981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: Derek and Stiles have to share a room after the pack attends a werewolf conference. There's just one problem: Derek and Stiles broke up a month ago.





	one more night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> For the prompt: "It's only one night, we'll share the bed." + sterek pls!  
> I originally planned on writing some make up sex but I've been having some trouble with smut lately.

"It's only one night, we'll share the bed."

Stiles raised his head to pin Derek with a thoroughly skeptical look, cocking an incredulous brow at him from the other side of the mattress. He crossed his arms over his chest, blinking in shocked surprise at Derek's infuriating nonchalant statement, barely believing his own ears.

He had heard some extremely ridiculous things throughout his nineteen years of life, from his days in high school where he spent time in testosterone-filled locker rooms to overhearing crazy stories from his dad about work. Not to mention all the insane stuff he had since he had stumbled into the shit show that was the world of the supernatural.

But what Derek had just said to him blew every other batshit crazy thing he had ever heard right out of the water. And he thought that nothing could ever top the time Peter told him that born werewolves had knots.

"Uh, yeah..." Stiles drawled, glancing back and forth between the bed and Derek, his eyes lingering on the soft looking pale blue comforter. Lifting his eyes from the bed, he turned back to Derek and firmly concluded, "No. I don't think so."

Derek blinked at him in blatant disbelief, completely taken aback by the fact that Stiles just shut him down. He tilted his head to the side, like a confused puppy, as he furrowed his brows, his forehead wrinkling.

"But  _ you _ ," Stiles began cheerily, pointing a finger at Derek's chest with a forced, almost mocking smile, "can sleep on the floor."

"Oh, c'mon, Stiles," Derek sighed heavily, rolling his eyes theatrically as he slumped his shoulders. With another sigh, Derek looked over at Stiles, clearly unimpressed with his proposition. "Don't be an asshole."

Stiles scoffed. He blinked a few times at Derek, not bothering to dignify his statement with an immediate response.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, biting the inside of his cheek as he valiantly tried to refrain from outright snapping at Derek. Ultimately failing, he grit his teeth and announced, "You can either sleep on the floor or sleep in the car because the bed is mine and I'm not sharing it with you."

Derek didn't seem too amused by that. He curled his lip in a silent snarl, alpha instincts rising to the surface at the fact that he was being ordered around so casually.

He crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Stiles' position as they glared at each other over the bed, neither one of them willing to concede. It went against both of their natures to be the first one to bend in an argument.

Eventually, after several minutes of silent staring at one another, Derek leaned over to pick up his duffel bag from where he had set it on the floor. Stiles puffed out his chest in triumph, letting out a self-satisfied  _ hmph  _ as Derek scooped up his bag, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

His smirk vanished and his chest deflated when, rather than take his bag and leave the room to go sleep in the cramped backseat of the Camaro, Derek simply tossed his bag into the bed. Completely ignoring Stiles' palpable outrage, Derek unzipped his bag and started rifling around inside, pulling out a change of clothes and a toothbrush.

He laid out a pair of pajama pants and some black boxer briefs, setting them on the foot of the bed. Placing his toothbrush and a travel size bottle of mouthwash on top of the pants, not looking up, he informed Stiles, "You can have the shower first. And be quick, it'd be nice if you saved me some hot water for once."

Stiles gaped at Derek, furious beyond words. He dropped his arms to fist his hands at his sides, sure that he was about to have an aneurysm he was so angry.

Derek seemed to notice, as he spared a glance up at him through his lashes, looking extraordinarily bored with the whole situation. Rolling his eyes again, Derek took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing Stiles as he calmly explained, "Look, we're stuck together for the night. We need to make the best of it. We'll share the bed and then we can forget about it, okay?"

Stiles wanted to argue more than anything. He had a dozen responses traipsing around on the tip of his tongue, each one more vicious than the last, but he couldn't bring himself to utter a single one.

Rationally, he knew that Derek was right, as much as it killed him to admit it, even just to himself. So, rather than tell the alpha that he was right, he just grabbed his own bag and turned on his heel to march into the en suite bathroom, growling over his shoulder, "Fine! But if you touch my pillow, I'll kill you!"

He closed the bathroom door with a loud slam that for some reason made him feel a little bit better, giving his anger an easier outlet than getting into a knock down drag out with Derek. Dropping his bag onto the lid of the toilet, he locked the door behind him with an angry huff that echoed faintly off the tiled walls.

Bracing his hands on the bathroom counter, he hung his head, blowing a raspberry that devolved into a long, frustrated sigh. Lifting his head after a long moment, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, the bags under his eyes more pronounced under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom.

It had been a long day and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and get some well-deserved rest, even if it meant that he had to share the bed with Derek. He had dealt with worse.

He flicked on the fan as he slipped out of his flannel, letting it pool around his feet as he yanked his shirt over his head. Kicking off his shoes, he hobbled over to the shower stall to turn the water on, testing the spray with his hand until he deemed it the perfect temperature.

He slithered out of his tight jeans and peeled off his boxers before hopping into the shower, closing the curtain behind himself as he slipped under the warm spray of water. Too tired to do much other than just relax under the warm water, Stiles didn't bother shampooing his hair, pouring some body wash into his palm and perfunctorily washing his chest and arms.

He rested his hand on the wall, letting the cascade of water rinse away the sweet smelling suds, hanging his head to watch the bubbles circle the drain. Eyes still cast down, he lingered in the shower, soaking up the warmth as he thought about his predicament.

They had just attended the last day of an important meeting with a handful of other packs in the Northwest Pacific region, a veritable symposium of highly esteemed werewolves. Apparently, it was a yearly occurrence, a millennia old tradition set in place to maintain friendly relations among coexisting packs.

It was the first time the prestigious Hale pack had attended the gathering since the fire, several invitations arriving in the mail to offer Derek a seat at the table with the other alphas. Derek, who was still relatively green when compared to the other alphas that had been leading their packs for decades, had been reluctant but the rest of the pack had managed to convince him to accept the many invitations.

The meeting had been exhausting, full of various introductions and long winded conversations about borders and territorial disputes. Stiles had been fascinated by the whole thing, especially when he got to meet various emissaries from other packs, but the others hadn't found it very entertaining at all.

Isaac had nearly dozed off half a dozen times, Stiles having to pinch his side before he started snoring and offended one of the more influential alphas. And Erica had spent half of their time at the discussions with her phone in her hands, checking all of her social media accounts every five minutes.

Finally, after endless hours of elderly alphas droning on about something or another, they were finally able to retire to their rooms at a nearby motel that they had booked months in advance. The only problem? They had booked their rooms when Stiles and Derek were still together.

Both of them had completely forgotten about the rooming situation until they got to the motel where the clerk informed them that had only booked four rooms. Only four: one for Scott and Isaac, one for Erica and Boyd, one for Peter, and, finally, one for Stiles and Derek.

And after their breakup a month prior, Stiles wasn't too happy about being stuck in a room with his infuriating ex-boyfriend. He briefly considered sleeping in the car but ultimately decided against it, also crossing rooming with someone else off the list.

Sighing, he raised his head, running a hand through his wet hair as the water sluiced over his pale skin. For a moment, he considered remaining in the shower even longer than he already just to spite Derek by using up all of the hot water.

Rather than give into his petty impulse, he shut the water off and pulled back the shower curtain to grab a towel off the rack on the wall. He quickly dried off, scrubbing himself dry with the towel before running it over his wet hair, hastily drying his hair.

Tossing the damp towel into the hamper, Stiles opened his bag to paw around for a baggy t-shirt and a fresh pair of boxers, not bothering to grab sweatpants or pajama pants. Derek had seen him in worse, after all.

And by that, he meant that Derek had seen him bloody and covered in fairies guts and wendigo brains, because not once in their six month relationship had Derek shown any interest in him sexually. It was one of the reasons they broke up in the first place.

He shook away that thought as he roughly brushed his teeth until his gums actually bled, cursing under his breath as he rinsed out the sink. After drying his hands, he shoved his dirty clothes and his toothbrush back into his bag before stomping out of the bathroom.

He completely ignored Derek as he made his way to the bed, dropping his bag onto the floor by his nightstand when he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Derek didn't acknowledge him either, simply grabbing his change of clothes and his toiletries before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself with a soft click.

With a soft grumble, Stiles crawled under the covers and flicked off the bedside lamp, flooding the room in darkness as he punched his pillow until he deemed it comfortable enough. He laid down and tried to will himself to sleep, hoping to fall asleep before Derek returned from his shower.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he listened to the muffled sound of the shower, losing himself in the steady fall of water against tile. Thankfully, it managed to lull him into a light slumber which was quite rudely interrupted when Derek slipped into bed behind him, the mattress springs creaking under his weight.

Stiles rolled his eyes behind his lids and tried to fall back asleep, but it was useless. Especially since Derek kept shifting around and constantly rolling over, trying to get comfortable.

He was just about to snap at Derek to just go the fuck to sleep already when the werewolf sidled up behind him and casually tossed an arm around his waist. Derek snuggled in closer like it was the easiest thing in the world, resting his chin on Stiles' shoulder as he let out a content sigh.

"What that hell are you doing?" Stiles hissed, his voice absolutely dripping with venom as he practically trembled with barely contained anger.

"Nothing," Derek mumbled, audibly stifling a yawn as he buried his nose in Stiles' still damp hair. Yawning again, he explained, "You know I sleep better when we cuddle."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Stiles growled through grit teeth, fisting his hand in the blanket at his hip to avoid launching himself at Derek. His chest heaving with unadulterated fury, he snarled incredulously, "Now you wanna touch me?"

That seemed to get Derek's attention seeing as how he lifted his head and loosened his grip on Stiles' waist, scooting back to put a few more inches of distance between them. Pure confusion underscoring every word, Derek asked, "Stiles, what are you talking about?"

Quaking with anger, Stiles rolled over to face Derek, sticking a finger in the alpha's face. Glaring at the man he was sharing the bed with, Stiles snarled, "You know damn well what I'm talking about! The whole time we were together you acted like I had the plague! Like it burned when I touched you!"

"Stiles, wait!" Derek blurted, holding up his hands in surrender, cowering a bit at the raw display of indignation. "That's not—"

"How do you think that made me feel?! My own boyfriend couldn't stand touching me!" Stiles thundered, though the sharpness in his voice was starting to be replaced with something else. Something more sad than angry.

Nevertheless, he persisted. His voice cracking almost imperceptibly, Stiles asserted, "Am I that repulsive?"

"What? No!" Derek assured him, cupping Stiles' face in his hands as he rose over him, tugging him in close. He sprinkled kisses across Stiles' forehead, stroking his thumbs over his cheeks and the moles that dotted the pale skin there.

He continued peppering kisses over Stiles' face as he cradled Stiles in his arms, holding him tightly against his chest. Sliding his arms around Stiles' shoulders, he gently rocked him side to side as he explained, "That's not it, baby. I just... I didn't want to rush into things. I have a bad history of rushing into relationships and getting hurt, I didn't want you getting hurt this time."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Stiles hiccuped against Derek's bare chest, resting his over the werewolf's loudly beating heart.

"I don't know," Derek admitted, shaking his head to himself. Stroking his hand through Stiles' hair, he murmured, "I was an idiot. I should've just talked to you. But I promise, I'll make it up to you, Stiles, even if it takes the rest of my life."

"What about just the rest of the night?" Stiles whispered, pulling back a few inches to bring his lips to Derek's in a deep kiss, winding his arms around Derek's neck to tug him down on top of him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can always find me on [Tumblr](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/), too  
> And, yes, I know this fic is a bit rushed. If you're thinking about leaving a comment to point that out, don't bother. I'll probably just delete it.


End file.
